


Desserts in Times of War

by fromGallifreytoGallitep (sykira)



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Canon Rewrite, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, background garashir, ezriyal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:21:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24766876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sykira/pseuds/fromGallifreytoGallitep
Summary: My contribution for the Star Trek rarepair exchange https://trek-rarepair-swap.tumblr.com/post/145564859954/masterpost (many apologies for missing the deadline)@tincanspaceship requested a fanwork featuring Ziyal/Ezri, sfw, with hurt/comfortThe timeline is screwy here…in part that’s because I prefer to rewrite canon to have beloved characters not die, and in part it’s because I didn’t get as far yet in my later-seasons DS9 rewatch as I hoped, with everything going on in the real world.  The requested pairing couldn’t have met up in actual canon though, so I figure it’s okay to retcon that!Another caveat: None of these are pairings I listed as being able to write, so please forgive me if this is awful!  I understand the matching is difficult and so I get it, and am happy to ‘stretch’ to at least try to write them, but I’m keenly hoping to avoid disappointing the requester - and as mentioned, TincanSpaceship, I am happy to change anything in this story that you don't like or would prefer done differently, just let me know!I am indebted to Syaunei for her psychological analysis of the characters that allowed me to get a handle on this pairing, and to bongbingbong for fixing the many errors!
Relationships: Ezri Dax/Tora Ziyal
Comments: 10
Kudos: 8





	1. I'danian spice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tincanspaceship](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tincanspaceship/gifts).



> I'm stealing the headcanon:  
>  _some people on the station refered to Ziyal as “Kira Ziyal” bc it seemed like the major had adopted a little sister and they weren’t going to invalidate that bond, and while Ziyal didn’t introduce herself that way she didn’t correct people either_  
>  by  
> https://kiranerysismyhero.tumblr.com/post/610964900180819968/headcanon-some-people-on-the-station-refered-to
> 
> Gratitude also to Memory Alpha, whose inventory of Bajoran desserts I have now plundered in full.
> 
> A million thank yous for Irena and Randy for talking this through with me and the beta ❤️

Ziyal hurried across the promenade to take her place at Major Kira’s side just as the airlock doors hissed open, revealing an entire Starfleet medical team. Kira shared a look of surprise with her before schooling her features into a mask of composure, but Ziyal could still see trepidation in the tightness of her jaw.

Weyoun narrowed his eyes and held up a hand as Doctor Bashir stepped forward from the group. “That’s far enough. We approved a doctor, no one else.”

Bashir nodded to Ziyal and Kira, giving them a fond smile of greeting. He looked different somehow, Ziyal mused. Let well put-together for one thing, his sleeves pushed up and his collar a little loose. But it was more than that: he was lacking some of the light in his eyes she remembered. She supposed nearly three months of war against the Dominion had taken its toll.

Bashir took his time before turning to the Vorta. “We appreciate the welcome.” He bestowed a slightly-forced cheerful grin on Weyoun before continuing smoothly, “yes, Starfleet emergency medical teams comprise a lot of expertise, which is critical in war time, and I understand you must have a lot of injured soldiers.”

Weyoun smiled menacingly. “I’m surprised the Federation can spare so many _critical_ medics at a time like this. We asked for a surgeon. That’s all we will need. You are welcome to as many Bajoran medics as you need of course, doctor.” He inclined his head and his hips canted back in a slight mincing bow, one arm sweeping out in the direction of the infirmary, where there were indeed now only Bajorans staffing it.

Beside Bashir, a young Trill spoke up, and Ziyal realized with a start that this must be Dax. She swallowed past the sudden lump in her throat. She was…well, tiny. And startlingly beautiful, her fine features and sharp eyes accentuated perfectly by her Trill markings. Ziyal swallowed. This was going to take some getting used to.

Dax stuck out her hand towards Weyoun with a “hi!” just as bright and breezy as Julian’s fixed grin. Ziyal had to fight not to smirk.

Weyoun raised an eyebrow, declining to take her hand. “And you are?”

“Ezri Tiga—uh, Dax. Ezri Dax.” She rolled her eyes at herself and straightened her shoulders. 

There was a moment of silence, in which Ezri held her composure perfectly, her hand still extended to Weyoun. Ziyal focused on keeping her spine as straight as Kira’s so she wouldn’t fidget, her cheeks dimpling from the effort of not grinning herself. 

Ezri clapped her hand to her chest. “Oh, I’m sorry, I have been around Terrans too long obviously – it is customary in many parts of the Alpha Quadrant to shake hands when you meet, would you like me to demonstrate? I know you are new here.”

She stuck her hand out again, with aplomb, this time in Ziyal’s direction. “Ezri Dax, pleased to meet you,” she chirped. Gamely, Ziyal shook her hand, soft and warm, and they shared a conspiratorial smile.

“Ziyal, Tora Ziyal, and the pleasure is mine.” Just in time Ziyal remembered not to introduce herself as Kira Ziyal—much as she loved that Bajorans around the station had taken to calling her that, she wasn’t sure what Kira would think if she introduced herself that way in public. She followed Ezri’s lead in exaggerating the movements of shaking hands, as if by way of demonstrating the greeting ritual. Behind Ezri Julian and the array of Starfleet officers shifted around restlessly, sensing the tension.

Weyoun’s expression turned thunderous as he gave Ezri a small bow. He knew when he had been bested. “We Vorta are skilled in diplomacy of every quadrant, the Founders saw to it that our education is not lacking in any way.” He slid his hand into the Trill’s, shaking it limply as his lip curled menacingly. Ziyal wondered if Ezri had had some kind of Psy Ops training at Starfleet, she looked like she knew her way around psyching out Weyoun at least.

Ezri just beamed at him as if he was a child who had mastered a new skill. Beside her Julian looked like it was all he could do not to laugh out loud, and for her part, Ziyal was half in love with this woman already. From behind her she heard a Cardassian make no effort to hold back a snigger, and turned to see her father and Damar had joined the delegation.

Weyoun’s scathing expression deepened. “Dukat here represents the Cardassian contingent.”

His smile wide, Dukat leaned forward, pushing in between the Vorta and Nerys to shake Ezri’s hand boisterously and give Bashir a cursory nod. “Oh, I think we’re a little more than a _contingent_ , wouldn’t you say, Weyoun? I’m Gul Dukat, welcome to Terok Nor.”

Ziyal felt Kira shiver beside her.

“What is it you do, Ezri, as part of this team of _critical_ medical personnel?” Dukat continued smoothly.

“I’m a counselor.”

“A counselor!” Dukat clapped his hands together, derision in his tone.

“Mental health, especially during wartime, is a critical piece of Starfleet’s medical response,” Ezri supplied primly, not missing a beat.

“Mental health?” Weyoun echoed, a politely confused eyebrow raised as he wrested control of the conversation. “You’re a brain surgeon?”  
  
Damar snorted. Weyoun ignored him. 

Dukat chimed in again. “This one is your surgeon.” With an oily smile, he indicated Julian. “A counselor merely talks to people about their _feelings._ Nonetheless, I suggest we let Bashir keep this one, she’s easy on the eyes, good for morale.”

Bashir straightened. “Now listen here, Dukat—”

“Well, the Bajorans could certainly use a little pep,” commented Weyoun snidely. He raised a hand dismissively and spoke to his ever-present cadre of Jem’Hadar. “The rest of the team is not to be allowed to board the station. They may beam supplies to cargo bay four. Security must scan everything before it is moved to the infirmary.”

Bashir opened his mouth to object, but Weyoun cut him off. “You are here on what you Terrans so quaintly call a _humanitarian_ mission, doctor. Starfleet has no authority here. You serve, as do we all, at the pleasure of the Dominion. I advise you to accept my terms before I rethink the mental health counselor.”

Ziyal watched Bashir’s eyes flick to Kira’s. She inclined her head slightly, and Bashir quirked his lips. “All right then.”

Once the rest of the team departed the station, Weyoun and the Cardassians quickly lost interest and drifted away, leaving the four of them looking at each other.

“Kira, Ziyal…” The young Trill’s demeanor had completely changed now, she looked almost shy, as if unsure of her welcome. 

Kira reached out and took her hands in both of hers. “Dax.” It was as much a question as a greeting. 

Ezri nodded. “Yes.”

Kira wrapped her hands around Ezri’s. “Jadzia?” she looked anxiously to Bashir.

“Recovering in the field hospital on Trill. First time a host has survived the loss of a symbiont.”

“Thanks to you,” Ezri looked up at him. With everyone but Kira standing at six foot or taller around here, the newly diminutive Dax was a little jarring to Ziyal.

Ziyal and Ezri followed Bashir and Kira to the promenade. 

“It’s good to see you both.” Kira gave them a broader smile now they were no longer under scrutiny, reaching to wrap her hand around Julian’s forearm warmly.

Bashir’s shoulders finally relaxed and he returned her smile, his eyes crinkling at the edges and his hand moving over hers. “It’s good to be back home. I’m surprised they are allowing any Starfleet presence here at all, frankly. We are at war.”

“How is Jadzia?” Kira pressed.

Julian inclined his head. “Physically, she will be back on her feet soon. It will take longer for her to recover fully.” The darkness in his eyes told them all they needed to know about how long a road that would be. “Worf is with her, won't leave her side.”

Kira swallowed and nodded, looking back to Ezri for a moment, but by then they reached the infirmary and anything she had been about to say was forgotten in the swell of excited voices welcoming Bashir back.

Ziyal hung back with Kira and Ezri in the entrance to the infirmary, watching Julian exchanging affectionate hugs with everyone. It was evident how much he had been missed.

Ezri looked at her in apprehension. Dax and Ziyal had been growing close, Jadzia had always been protective of her, and kind about her art. When they had heard about the injury that required the Dax symbiont to be removed from Jadzia, Ziyal had been devastated. 

She blinked. “Dax, I’m so glad you’re here.” Next thing she knew they were hugging, and it felt both brand new and comfortingly familiar all at once.

“Thank you,” Ezri whispered, before letting her go.

Kira was smiling at them. “Are you tired after your journey, Dax? Can we take you to Quarks or somewhere?”

Ezri rolled her shoulders. “Actually I just wanted to walk around the promenade a little. It’s so strange to be back here – everything has a weird nostalgic familiarity, but like it was yesterday, and yet I’ve never seen it through these eyes before.”

Kira nodded. They had only gone a few feet when Julian fell into step beside Kira. “Actually, I’ll settle in there later, I wanted to touch base with you first.” Kira nodded, glancing around them to see who was listening. Ezri and Ziyal followed at their heels, watching as Julian leaned in a little. “How has it been here? I have messages from everyone for you, we hated walking away and leaving you and Odo to face Du—“ He broke off and cast a guilty look back at Ziyal. “Uh, to face the Dominion alone,” he finished.

Ziyal looked down. She knew her father wasn’t exactly popular and it put her in a strange place with everyone, especially now he was running the station. She felt the gentle touch of Ezri’s hand as she briefly touched her back in support, and they shared a small smile. Something in her eyes told Ziyal Ezri knew all too well what it was to be caught between people, between confusing loyalties.

Kira shrugged. “With the wormhole mines in place, they can’t replace their Jem’Hadar as readily as before. They never invested any time in learning how to treat injured Jem’Hadar because they’ve always had a ready supply of them. They are astounded that you will help them. To be honest, so am I.”

“They didn’t give us much choice. They captured the Defiant, and our entire crew, along with everyone on Ezri’s ship too. Offering to help them as a humanitarian gesture was the only bargaining chip we had left.” 

“And your medical team?”

His lips pressed together into a thin line and he just gave her a look, his eyes darting back to Ziyal.

Right, she thought darkly. They don’t trust me, and why should they. For all they knew she would carry tales back to her father. If she had to guess, the ‘medical team’ was probably engineers and Starfleet intelligence officers, and Weyoun was right to be suspicious and to send them away.

Well, not _right_ , except from a Dominion point of view.

“And that’s why Starfleet agreed to this?” Kira pressed Julian.

He nodded solemnly then looked around the promenade as they walked. “Where is Odo?”

Kira’s posture tensed. “He has been spending a lot of time with the female founder these days.”

Bashir just looked at her, his eyes full of sympathy. He looked like he was about to say something else, but Kira cut him off.

“Captain Sisko?”

Bashir waited until they reached a quieter spot before answering.

“He’s well. Dry docked at an Admiral’s request, but I know he would rather be back on the front lines. Miles is repairing the Defiant after Jadzia led the mission to take out the Dominion sensor array.”

He pressed his lips together again and Kira mirrored his expression. Ziyal couldn’t tell if they were sad about Jadzia’s injury, or just stopping themselves from saying more while she was there.

Ezri touched Kira’s arm. “And Jake? Benjamin has been so worried about him.”

“He’s fine. I kept an eye on him.” Kira placed her hand over Ezri’s then looked to Ziyal, her features relaxing into a smile.

“I kept an eye on him too.” Ziyal offered, returning the smile. She and Jake had become fast friends. With him, Kira, Nog, and Leeta somehow she had more friends here than her entire time at university on Bajor. And now Dax was back…well kind of. She dared another glance at the newly-diminutive Trill, so much less imposing than the six foot tall Jadzia had been, but no less formidable if how she handled the Vorta was anything to go by.

Julian broke in. “Do you think the supplies really made it to cargo bay four?”

“Weyoun is efficient, if nothing else. I’ll make sure they find their way here as soon as possible,” Kira promised.

“If I can help with that – look over them, I can vouch to my father that they are just medical supplies, that might speed things up?” Ziyal piped up. 

Everyone turned to look at her, and she swallowed tightly. She was walking a fine line here, and she knew it, but she couldn’t pretend to support the Dominion invasion, even if she tried to keep her mouth shut for her father’s sake.

Kira reached out and gripped her arm warmly. “Thank you, Ziyal, we might have to take you up on that. Would you see about getting Ezri some quarters? Julian and I have a lot to talk about.”

 _Preferably without you listening,_ Ziyal imagined Kira thought but didn’t say.

She dipped her head. “Of course.”

Ezri was watching the exchange shrewdly.

“You okay?” she asked quietly, once they took their leave of Julian and Kira. 

Ziyal shrugged. “I wanted to ask about Garak.”

“Oh, he’s doing well. Being more helpful than I think anyone anticipated actually. He’s becoming part of the crew – well, he’s at least earning his keep.” She paused with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “He and Julian still bicker like they think no one knows how obvious it is what they actually want!”

Ziyal laughed delightedly. “Shh! I’m still teasing my father that Garak and I have a thing going.”

“And I’ve had more than a few comments about how well Julian and I have been getting along.” Ezri shook her head. “People sure can be clueless. He’s only got eyes for one person on the Defiant.”

“I’m glad they are accepting him, I know it has been hard for Elim, years here, no one trusting him or getting too close.”

Ezri looked at her thoughtfully. “Hmm.”

They had reached the habitat ring, so much quieter these days than how Ziyal remembered it before most of the civilians evacuated to Bajor. She suddenly couldn’t take it anymore. “They think I don’t know they have a resistance cell,” she blurted out in a whisper. Then sighed. With indiscretion like that, no wonder they didn’t trust her.

“I mean, I don’t know details or anything,” she rushed to reassure Ezri. “But even if I did, I would _never_ betray Nerys, never.”

Ezri gave her a sympathetic smile and grazed her hand over Ziyal’s back for a moment. Ziyal felt warmth tingling down her spine at the other woman’s touch and the acceptance in her eyes. “Family loyalty is very important to Cardassians,” Ezri commented, no judgement in her voice. 

“Kira is my family too. I owe her everything. I-I know what the Dominion are doing here is wrong, and I have to believe my father will come to see it that way, eventually. He is passionate about how he wants to protect the Bajorans.”

Ezri bit her lip. “It must be difficult for you, being put in the middle.”

Even though it was a much more diplomatic answer than any Ziyal would have expected from Jadzia, Ziyal hurried on, not ready for Dax or anyone to disabuse her of her hope for her father. “Do you know some Bajorans call me Kira Ziyal?”

Ezri’s eyes shone at the joy in her voice, and Ziyal felt her cheeks warm. “I know, it might sound silly, but I love it when they do. And Nerys doesn’t mind, actually she says she likes it, and if I wasn’t of age already she would adopt me to make it official. It’s not like either of us have a lot of family left.”

“You have friends,” Ezri offered softly. She held out her hand, and Ziyal accepted it, surprised at the jolt that ran through her when they touched. Sometimes she could sense Jadzia in Ezri’s eyes, or maybe that was just fanciful on her part, but _this_ feeling…this was something else. And entirely distinct from the friendship she had shared with Jadzia. She held onto Ezri’s hand a little longer than was necessary, and felt a stab of loss when they came to a halt and she let go.

“This is me.” She gestured at the door to her quarters. “I, um, I haven’t been back here very long myself, but I know the guest quarters next to mine are empty? I mean, we’ll have to clear it with the Vorta, they run things around here these days.”

“Sounds perfect.”

Tentatively Ziyal palmed the reader for the quarters beside hers, surprised when they opened to her touch. She knew her father had boasted about the entire station being at her disposal, but she hadn’t had much opportunity to test what accesses she had.

_She should,_ a voice inside her mind suggested, _it might be useful to Kira’s resistance._

Ezri followed her inside, dropping her bag on the dining table. “Better not tell Jadzia, but I think these are bigger than her quarters!”

“Well, I’ll leave you to get settled in, I guess?” She wondered if Ezri would head back to the infirmary, and how much she would be involved in whatever they were planning. A sharp pang of loneliness at being excluded stole around her heart – but then it was hardly a new sensation. “If I can help with anything…” she started, then trailed off.

“Actually,” Ezri chewed her lip pensively. “Are you hungry? Want to test out the replicator?”

Ziyal beamed. “As long as you don’t want Gagh!”

Ezri made a face, and Ziyal laughed, the twinge of loneliness dissipating rapidly.

Later that night there was a soft knock on her door just as Ziyal pulled a nightgown over her head. She grabbed a robe – long like the nightgown, covering her from head to toe. She had quickly learned at the university that the fewer visual reminders of her Cardassian heritage the better when it came to being accepted on Bajor. Not that she could blame them, she could see the genuine fear in the flinch response particularly from young women on campus, and it hurt her heart to see it.

“Come in,” she called, tightening the belt on her robe. “Ezri!”

Ezri looked a little unsure of herself, but her expression turned joyful when she saw Ziyal. “I didn’t wake you did I?”

“No, come in, is everything okay? Your quarters warm enough?” Belatedly Ziyal remembered it was only her half-Cardassian physiology that left her chilled on the station some nights.

Ezri nodded, stepping inside and letting the door slide closed behind her. “My quarters are great. It’s…it’s me that’s a mess,” she admitted ruefully, giving Ziyal a self-deprecating smile. She swallowed, her eyes taking in Ziyal’s night clothes. “You sure I’m not bothering you?” She frowned. “You look so bundled up. Are _you_ cold?”

“I’m fine,” Ziyal murmured. “I was…I was just thinking about you actually.” She found herself entranced as Ezri grabbed a blanket off the back of the couch and started arranging it around Ziyal’s shoulders in a manner that was almost…proprietary. A delighted shiver ran across Ziyal’s ridges as Ezri’s soft fingertips brushed her the side of her neck. How long had it been since anyone actually touched her skin? She had grown so used to assuming herself repulsive.

“Want some raktajino or something?”

Ezri shook her head. “Thanks but then I’d really never sleep!”

Ziyal moved to the couch and patted the space beside her, hoping she wasn’t being too forward, but Ezri really looked like she could use a friend.

They sat together, Ezri fidgeting a little. 

“You don’t look a mess,” Ziyal offered shyly.

Ezri all but snorted. “I’m thinking now maybe I screwed up today, I dunno.” She blew out a breath.

“Screwed up?” Ziyal blinked in confusion.

“Do you know how long I practiced snarky greetings to talk my way onto this station? We knew we didn’t have much chance of getting a whole team here, but we had to try. Now there’s just me, and I can't help feeling Julian and Kira would rather it was Jadzia Dax.”

“I thought you did great today. And anyway, the Cardassians know Jadzia, she was Sisko’s science officer…uh, _is_ his science officer…and honestly there’s no way they would have let her run loose around the station.”

Ezri’s lips quirked as she considered that. “I guess you have a point there.” She pushed a hand through her already askew hair. “I can see why the Dominion wouldn’t take me seriously, I mean someone that can’t even get their own name right when you meet them?”

Ziyal smiled softly and touched her “You’re too hard on yourself, you’ve had a lot of names! And how you handled Weyoun today was just…I’m starstruck.”

Ezri laughed at that, but Ziyal wasn’t entirely sure she was joking; Ezri was…entrancing to her. Jadzia had always seemed unshakable – so calm and composed. Ziyal had never seen her doubt herself the way Ezri was tonight. They had only known each other a day and she was already trusting her with vulnerability. It made Ziyal feel warm inside, and filled her with a fierce desire to protect her.

Ezri twisted in her seat suddenly. “Are you sure you don’t mind me just barging in like this, so late at night? Lela would be horrified at the impropriety.”

“Lela?”

“My second…no, first host, I uh think. I just…those huge quarters…just made me feel quite alone after being crammed in with everyone on the Defiant.” She made a chagrined moue with her lips, and Ziyal counseled herself not to spend too much time staring at them. 

Ezri was still talking. “I know the last thing I should feel is lonely, all these voices inside my head.”

“You don’t need to explain,” Ziyal rushed to reassure her. “I love having the company. I’ve always felt a little silly having family-sized quarters when it’s just me, but my father insisted I have the best the station had to offer.”

Ezri settled on the couch, curling up her legs underneath her, at once elegant and yet childlike. “He loves you, you know. Your father.”

“I know.” Ziyal inclined her head, remembering not to tilt it at the same time, the sharp words of the younger Bajorans still echoing in her head from when she first lived here. _“You move like a reptile, you know that? All twitchy head movements and blinking too fast.”_ It had hurt at the time, but Ziyal had marked their words and was grateful for their lack of tact. She would have shed all her lizard skin if she could have—and had many times considered asking Doctor Bashir if reconstructive surgery would be feasible, but then she thought of what that would do to her father, and abandoned the idea. So all she could do was learn to blink more slowly and be careful how she moved.

“I am glad to have this time with my father,” she chose her words carefully, “I just wish…well, that it didn’t take another occupation to bring us together.”

“How was it at school on Bajor?” Ezri asked softly.

Ziyal shrugged. “Better than a labor camp.” Her mouth quirked up but the attempt at a joke rang hollow and she didn’t quite manage a smile. “I liked the classes…and I’m used to being the outsider…” She gestured at her face. “Place like this is the closest I’ll ever get to fitting in, I guess.” She scuffed her feet. “Not that I’m complaining, I’m happy here.”

She let silence fall between them, marveling at how comfortable it felt. Ezri radiated compassion and patience.

“Do you want something non-caffeinated to drink?” Ziyal wanted to keep her here longer. “I learned how to make ginger tea for Nerys even better than she can make it herself!” She jumped up and hit the auto-programmed button on the replicator, specifying two cups, hot.

Their fingers touched as she carefully placed the cup in Ezri’s hands.

“Mmm…oh that is good! What’s your secret?”

Ziyal shrugged, pleased. “Just a dash of I'danian spice, and lots of Rekja, but don’t tell Nerys!”

Ezri’s eyes lit up as she took another sip. “Like I’danian Spice Pudding? Oh yes, I can taste it now!” She grinned conspiratorially. “It will just be between us then.”

“What about you?” Ziyal ventured, sitting back down on the couch beside her. “Are you…happy? I mean…with everything?” Ziyal mentally flailed, what a stupid question, the poor young woman had been burdened with a symbiont she had never asked for, and had received no training for how to deal with, and her whole life had been turned upside down.

Ezri seemed to be deep in thought. “I know I am happy right now. Happy here, I mean,” Ezri nodded to herself, scrunching up her brow. “Or…one of me was.” She glanced at Ziyal and they shared a wry smile. “But I don’t fit anymore. The Trill council knew what they were talking about when they prohibited re-association.”

She sighed and took a long draught of tea. “But before I came here… _back_ here, I felt so…unmoored. It disappeared the moment I stepped back onto the promenade.”

Ziyal nodded, listening intently.

“The council explained it would be a… ‘ _transition_ ’,” Ezri continued, “and all I could hear in my head was Ezri’s voice…I mean my voice, _this_ voice, using that particular euphemism so many times in my field training as a counselor: a man grieving over a wife who left him, a combat fighter forced to retire from the battlefield, whatever… I would emphasize this would be a difficult _transition_ so they would keep in mind it’s only temporary.”

“Does it feel temporary?”

She huffed a mirthless laugh. “It feels like eternity. Like even death is no escape, now that I—Ezri—am a part of this symbiont, it won’t end for lifetimes, in a sense.”

She shook herself slightly. “I’m sorry, Ziyal,” she forced a cheerful tone. “I have no idea why I’m burdening you with all this, I’m sure in time…” Her voice trailed off as Ziyal’s hand closed on her forearm.

“ _Don’t._ Don’t pretend. Don’t fall back into euphemisms. You don’t have to, not with me.”

Ezri blinked at her, her eyes moistening just for a moment, then she bit her lip and dropped her eyes. She threaded her fingers through Ziyal’s, and Ziyal felt it again, that slight shivery glimmer of _something_ between them.


	2. Ch 2 Tuwaly Pie

It was only a week or so later, but to Ziyal it had felt like Ezri had been here forever; she couldn’t even remember what she had done all day without her here. They had visited Jadzia’s favorite view ports, frequented the Hobeesian baths more than once (Quark delighted to get the business—it wasn’t as if the Jem’Hadar had much use of the holosuites—and the Ferengi for once was wily enough to keep any lascivious comments to himself) sampled every option in what was left in the way of promenade restaurant fare on Dominion-occupied Deep Space Nine, and ended up back in Ziyal’s quarters more often than not. 

It didn’t seem like Ezri was keeping her away from Julian and Kira’s resistance cell, but the idea of it worried Ziyal anyway. Ezri was a welcome distraction from constantly wondering if her father would suspect them. She did know that they were all confused at the complete absence of injured Jem’Hadar, as everyone had assumed that was why Julian had been brought here to begin with. Instead they had him researching vague symptoms of infectious diseases as they interacted with the biogenic matrix of changelings—that was all Ziyal had managed to glean so far, and she couldn’t tell if even Julian himself knew more than that. 

She was pretty sure even her father was in the dark as to the Vorta’s true motives for requesting a Federation doctor. Was it just a coincidence they picked the Defiant and got the only one with experience treating a Changeling? Odo seemed just fine though, as did the female Changeling on the rare occasion she left her quarters.

Ziyal had caught Nerys watching her with Ezri more than once, a strange fondness in her expression that was almost motherly. Ziyal kept asking if Nerys herself wanted more time with her old friend Dax, but Kira just smiled and stroked her hair or rubbed her shoulder, and told her she had no desire to go back anywhere near the Hobeesian baths thankyouverymuch, and that the two of them should just enjoy their time together. It was the complete opposite of how Kira had reacted when she had suspected she and Garak had a thing, and while Ziyal basked in her warmth and approval, she wondered if Nerys could see right through her and already knew just how quickly and deeply Ziyal was falling for Ezri.

Last night they had even fallen asleep on the couch together, a tangle of blankets and Tuwaly pie, some old holo-novel playing on the projector. It was the first time Ziyal could recall not feeling even slightly chilled all night long.

It seemed like they might be heading the same way tonight. Another holo-novel played on the screen, some heartfelt narrative about refugees, but all of Ziyal’s attentions were on the young woman in her arms. Just when she was beginning to think Ezri had nodded off her voice came out of nowhere.

“I can’t decide if this is wholesome or just dreck,” she announced.

Grinning broadly, Ziyal stroked her hair. “It’s supposed to be something relaxing, just let it wash over you. Or we could watch something else, if you like?”

“ _How?_ ”

She blinked. “How what?”

Ezri sat upright suddenly, almost spilling the remains of their Sem’hal Stew all over the couch. Ziyal grabbed the dish just in time, and set it safely on her coffee table. They had been friends only a short time, but she had already come to expect these sudden transitions when a former Dax host asserted itself. Ezri had explained that symbiont training would have helped her handle them better, but as it was, the speed of change could be dizzying.

“Ziyal, you grew up on a Breen mine. Your mother died, you were all alone. Your own father tried to kill you. How are you so…full of light, so kind, so so utterly…pure?”

Ziyal reeled back slightly, her heart thumping. “I’m not. You don’t understand what it was like…I-“ She broke off, looking away. “I did what I had to do to survive, and I left all that far behind. My life is different now.”

“But all those experiences are still inside you. And I know you’re tougher than people give you credit for.”

Ziyal inclined her head. 

Ezri’s face crumpled. “Oh I’m sorry, Ziyal, here we were having another wonderful night together, and I have to go and ruin it. I don’t know what came over me, it’s just…I care about you.” She swallowed, looking suddenly unsure. “A lot. And I just…I want to understand. But if you don’t want to talk about this…” 

“If I hadn’t…if I wasn’t so _nice,_ so _safe_ , I wouldn’t have made it.” Ziyal bit her lip and looked into Ezri’s eyes, seeing her compassion and concern. “You don’t think I wanted to punch those Bajoran students every time they said a snide comment just loud enough so I would hear? Or rail at them for their cruelty…but all I could do was pretend it just washed over me. Lizard Scaly.”

She broke off, the sound of that epithet spoken aloud giving her pause. “That’s what they called me. And I…I pretended I didn’t mind, because what do you think Bajorans would do to a lizard who suddenly lashed out? I’d be just confirming everything, and life would become even more hellish for all those half-Cardassian orphans still down there. That’s what Garak and I would talk about late nights in his tailor shop, when we couldn’t sleep—some half-baked fantasy about rescuing them. About them not having to grow up being reviled.”

She risked another glance at Ezri, who was listening intently, grasping Ziyal’s hands between her own with an earnestness that felt far beyond the professional detachment of a counselor.

Ziyal licked her lips. “Maybe when this is over, he and Julian could…I don’t know, help them, maybe even give them a home.”

Ezri’s eyes went wide. “Garak and Julian?” Her voice cut off suddenly and she frowned, her gaze turning inward. “Oh. Wait. I _did_ know that. Or, well, Jadzia did.” She scrubbed a hand over her face. “Such a weird feeling, _‘remembering’_ something I never knew, but the symbiont does.”

“I can imagine,” Ziyal said softly. “You okay?” 

Ezri shook herself slightly. “Yeah. It’s just like reverse déjà vu or something.” She quirked her lips, then tilted her head. “You…being underestimated was a defense mechanism.” Her voice was full of wonder.

Ziyal could see it in the Trill’s eyes when she suddenly snapped into focus for who she really was – not some saccharine demure girlish child with her painting and waxing philosophical, but with opinions so bland no one would be upset.

“Comes with the territory for anyone raised in abusive circumstances,” Ezri continued, as if she could read Ziyal’s thoughts. “Always having to be watchful for people’s reactions to you, careful not to upset anyone, adapting to de-escalate tension.”

“Because making people feel uncomfortable could be all it took to get yourself killed,” Ziyal finished for her softly. She shook herself slightly, not ready to think about her mother just then.

“Zi…” Ezri breathed. It was a private nickname; she only ever called her that when they were alone, and always with a slight hush in her voice, a warm affection. Ziyal loved it.

Ziyal ploughed on. She wasn’t looking for sympathy, but suddenly for the first time in her life it felt very important to be _seen._ And for Ezri to be the one to see her.

“The sad thing is…I empathize with Bajorans on a fundamental level, I grew up a slave too. By exiling us my father did nothing but make me full Bajoran to my very core and now when he looks at me all he wants to see is the perfect Cardassian daughter.”

Ezri shifted, dropping her eyes. “He’s your father, he loves you.”

“That’s what Nerys said too. He…he tried to force her to come to a celebration of my art – I told you three of my paintings are to be displayed at the Cardassian Institute?”

Ezri nodded, looking up at her again, her eyes glowing with pride.

“And my father tried to engineer things so Nerys would effectively be his date, I think. And she and I…we aren’t going to be so close anymore, I don’t think.” Her poise crumbled suddenly and the next thing she knew, she was in Ezri’s arms.

“Oh Ziyal, I’m sorry, I know how much she means to you.” She rubbed her back, and Ziyal’s sobs slowed down until she could breathe again. “For what it’s worth, I have faith you and Nerys will find your way back to each other. She cares for you like a mother, your bond is too deep to lose.”

“I hope so.”

Ezri pulled back a little, planting her hands firmly on Ziyal’s shoulders. “I know so.”

Her resolute proclamation filled Ziyal with hope. When she was with Ezri nothing seemed so bleak.

Then Ezri was touching her fingertips to Ziyal’s face, her expression turning tentative. Ziyal felt her mouth open in a silent gasp.

Ezri was looking at her like she knew her, _really_ knew her, and Ziyal had never experienced anything quite like it. She lifted her own trembling hand and cupped Ezri’s cheek, leaning in before she could think better of it. Did Ezri want this? All Ziyal knew as their lips touched was that nothing had ever felt so right in all her life.


	3. Larish Pie

Ziyal felt the last two weeks she had been walking on air. She and Ezri were together every moment they could be. The only thing missing from her life was Nerys – they were giving each other space, but that space for Ziyal was an emptiness she didn’t know what to do with.

So when Nerys approached her at the replimat one day, Ziyal’s face lit up with joy, hope surging through her.

Until she heard the news Rom was sentenced to death for his part in the resistance cell. Ziyal’s stomach sank, but she couldn’t let go of hope—she clung to it, she could fix this…she just had to talk with her father, make him see. If she could get Rom released, Kira and everyone would trust her, and they would see her father meant what he said that he was not their enemy.

Less than an hour later and she was shaking in Ezri’s arms. 

“How could I have been so naïve?”

Ezri hushed her, rocking her slightly. “You aren’t. You just want to see the best in people, and he’s your father.”

Ziyal sniffled. “I have to talk to Nerys. She was right. She was always right.” 

“Do you want me to come with you?”

Ziyal thought about that. _Yes. Always. Everywhere._ She straightened, reluctantly leaving the warmth of Ezri’s embrace. “No, I need to face her alone. At least I know where I stand now.”

She found Nerys in a cargo bay, PADD in hand. To her credit there were no recriminations, Nerys just listened. 

“I really believed my father had changed. That he wanted to be a man of peace.”

Nerys was so buttoned up, hard to read, and it frightened Ziyal – this was clearly a woman in survival mode. “I think he believes that too, when it suits his purpose.” 

She was right, Ziyal realized, coldness creeping around her heart. He _did_ believe the things he said, that’s what made him seem so authentic.

“Everything he's ever said to me has been a lie,” she blurted, her sense of control unraveling by the minute.

Nerys softened her tone. “Not everything. He really does care about you.”

“I don't care. I am not going back to him.” She hesitated. “You don't believe me, do you?”

Nerys sighed. “Right now you're angry and hurt, but that's going to pass. And then you'll have to decide what to do.”

Ziyal opened her mouth to protest that she had already decided, she had been wrong to ever turn her back on Nerys. She had been more of a parent to her than Dukat had ever been. But they were interrupted by Damar.

“Ziyal, I need to speak to you,” he proclaimed, arrogance in his gait as he approached them.

She rolled her eyes. “You and I have nothing to talk about.”

“Maybe not, but you and your father do. He wants to see you.” He stepped closer to her and Ziyal held her ground.

“Well, I don't want to see him.”

Nerys spoke up then, her tone low and dangerous. “You heard her.”

Damar’s eyes narrowed with contempt. “Stay out of this, Major. Ziyal, listen.”

Ziyal pointedly ignored him, but Damar continued, his pompous tone taking on an air he probably imagined held gravitas. “Your father is a great man, a man of destiny, but he also carries great burdens. He knows our alliance with the Dominion is a dangerous one. If we show any sign of weakness, our allies will turn on us. That's why we must all help him remain strong. So I ask you to be a true daughter of Cardassia and stand beside him.”

She scoffed. After all the snide looks and jibes about her half-caste appearance and _this_ was what he was throwing at her? “It should be obvious, even to you, Damar, that I am not a ‘true daughter of Cardassia’.”

His eyes hardened. “What's obvious to me is that your father should have left you to rot in that Breen prison camp. But he didn't. He took pity on you and it's your duty to repay him. Now come with me.” He grabbed her arm and Ziyal pulled away from him, repulsed. She felt him freeze up when Nerys’s cold tone reached them.

“Let her go.”

He sneered. “And if I don't, what happens then?”

“I was hoping you'd ask.”

Ziyal watched in utter shock as Nerys drew back and punched Damar. Hard.

He moved to take a swing at her but she was faster on her feet, more creative in her jabs, and a few seconds later, Damar slumped to the ground.

Horrorstruck, Ziyal just stared. “Did you kill him?”

“No, but I thought about it.”

“What are you going to do when he wakes up?” Panic was setting in now, everything happening so fast. But Kira was cool as ice.

“That's up to him.”

Trembling, she stood frozen as Nerys turned on her heel. Ziyal lingered just long enough to see the look in Damar’s eyes, humiliation and anger in his twisted expression. It was a dangerous combination in a violent man; six years in a labor camp had taught her that much.

She hurried to catch up with Nerys.

“He won't bother you again.” Her lips twitched in disgust.

“No, he won’t,” Ziyal agreed, dread filling her _…But he just might come after you instead, and with more than just his fists this time_.

“Should we take you to the infirmary?” Ziyal gestured at where Kira absently nursed her hand. 

“What?” Kira followed Ziyal’s gaze blankly, as if unaware that she had even injured herself. _Adrenaline_ , Ziyal realized. 

“No, it’s nothing, I’m fine.” Kira paused and looked at her intently, her voice softening. “What about you? You okay?”

Ziyal broke eye contact from the intensity of Kira’s gaze. “Uh, just a little jittery, I guess.” She was, but it was nothing new. A Breen labor camp had made her much tougher than people here seemed to realize, and although she had been legally an adult by both Bajoran and Cardassian standards for a while now, everyone here still treated her like a child.

But she _was_ out of her depth here. What had just happened between Damar and Kira would have repercussions, she was sure of that. Men like Damar were insecure, and never more dangerous than when forced into a corner. People needed to know what had happened, not just her and Kira, and the infirmary might be the best place to start. She didn’t know Bashir well, but she had been impressed by his gentle demeanor when she had first come aboard the station and he had set about calmly and professionally treating a lifetime of poorly healed injuries and malnutrition. He didn’t escalate drama unnecessarily, but he took what she said seriously.

She raised her eyes to Kira’s again. She was still looking at her with a mixture of concern and maternal affection. Ziyal felt a swell of love for this woman, who had so ferociously protected her from the moment they had met. Maybe it was time to return the favor. “Actually…I’m a little rattled, do you think Doctor Bashir could give me something to help me to sleep tonight?”

“Let’s go ask him.” Nerys smiled at her and placed an arm delicately around her shoulders. In her embrace Ziyal could feel the major’s body still taut with tension.

Her heart lightened considerably when she saw Ezri in the infirmary. 

“Ziyal!” Ezri launched herself off the biobed with the lithe grace of the gymnast she used to be, only to doubt herself halfway through and stumble on the landing.

Instinctively Ziyal moved forward and half-caught half-hugged Ezri, her face breaking into a grin she couldn’t have stopped if she tried.

“Careful!” Julian admonished with a smile. I’ve already fixed your twisted ankle once this evening.”

Her eyes still on Ziyal, Ezri’s lips twisted into a sheepish grimace. “Took a corner too fast. It didn’t end well.” A shadow crossed her face. “I’m no Jadzia.”

“You don’t have to be,” Ziyal murmured, pulling her into a proper hug. She didn’t press for details on what Ezri had actually been doing—it was clear to her now this resistance cell was much more active than anyone knew, and that they wouldn’t tell her any of it.

“Springball?” Julian asked. Confused, Ziyal tore her eyes away from Ezri’s for a moment, but Julian was addressing Nerys, nodding towards her wrist.

Nerys just shrugged. “It’s nothing.”

Ezri tugged on Ziyal’s hand. “Hey, you okay?”

Ziyal realized she must have looked like she had zoned out for a moment. She shook herself slightly, still keeping Nerys and Doctor Bashir in the corner of her eye.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“I was just going to get a snack at the replimat, want to come?”

With a last look back at Nerys, who was rolling her eyes but nonetheless submitting to having her wrist scanned, Ziyal nodded.

Ezri tangled their fingers together as she led her away. Ziyal’s chest hitched in surprise at the intimacy of it, but it was just for a moment then Ezri dropped her hand. Ziyal wiggled her fingers, wishing she had the courage to reach her again. It had felt so…proprietary, and she loved it.

She gave Ezri a shy smile, watching as her cheeks dimpled in response when she grinned back. Was it her imagination or were Ezri’s cheeks slightly pink?

“I’ll just be at the replimat,” she called over her shoulder to Nerys, who nodded in acknowledgement. 

“You look like you have a lot on your mind,” Ezri prompted gently as they crossed the promenade, ignoring the gruff glares from Jem’Hadar.

Ziyal nodded. “Damar.”

Ezri’s carefree grin slid off her face and she squared her shoulders. Ziyal blinked at the sudden change in her countenance. 

“You want to get a drink and talk about it?” She wrapped a warm hand around Ziyal’s forearm. Her manner was just as warm, but there was something solemn in her eyes that was alert for danger now. It reminded Ziyal of Jadzia.

Ziyal nodded, grateful at how in-command Ezri sounded now. She placed her hand over Ezri’s for a moment and held her eyes.

Two Tarkalean teas and Bajoran Larish pies later, Ziyal had related not just their run in with Damar in the cargo bay, but all the lead up of the tension between him and Nerys, and his hero worship of her father, along with Damar’s belief that Ziyal was in the way of Dukat’s swift rise in Cardassian ranks.

“It’s more than that though,” she confessed, stirring the dregs of her tea. “It’s like he thinks my father is destined for some kind of…I don’t know, greatness I guess. More than just rank advancement?”

Ezri nodded solemnly. “But he didn’t hurt you? When he grabbed you?”

“No, I’m fine, just a little shaken.” She looked back in the direction of the infirmary. “I want Nerys to be straight about what happened though. A man like Damar…you don’t understand Cardassians, it’s not just that she beat him physically, it’s a pride thing.”

Ezri held her eyes. “I agree. Let’s check in with Julian?”

Nerys was gone by the time they made it back to the infirmary. Julian gave them a bright smile belied by the tightness around his eyes.

“How can I help, ladies?”

For a moment no words came, and Ziyal just looked at him.

“It’s about the Major,” Ezri began.

“It’s not a springball injury,” Ziyal interrupted her.

“I know,” Julian replied calmly. “The swelling and grazing of her knuckles indicates she probably punched someone—Cardassian, I’m guessing, hard enough that it’s probably just a matter of time before they show up in the infirmary.”

“It was Damar,” Ezri blurted out. “And he won't come to you for help, he’s too proud…wait, you can tell it was a Cardassian she punched just from looking at her hand?” 

Julian cracked a smile that didn’t quite alleviate the darkness in his eyes. “That and she told me what happened.”

It took Ziyal too long to process that Julian was joking with her. As if sensing her agitation, Ezri placed her hand soft on her shoulder.

“It’s all right, do you want to sit down?” Julian’s seemingly unflappable manner was probably meant to be soothing, but it just made Ziyal more upset to think he wasn’t taking her seriously.

“You’ll find Odo? Maybe put a security detail on Nerys?”

He nodded seriously. “I’ll talk to people, you were right to bring this to my attention.”

“Damar…” she began again, then trailed off. “He’s dangerous. Someone could get hurt. You weren’t there, the way he spoke about my father, as if he was more a religious figure than just a Gul, as if I was holding him back from some kind of…destiny. It didn’t make sense.”

Ezri put her arm around her. “It’s late, let’s go get some rest, okay? Julian will take it from here.”

Ziyal didn’t miss the significant look that passed between them. She sagged against Ezri, exhaustion washing over her. All she could do was hope this resistance cell was much bigger and more powerful than it seemed. Everything was coming to a head and she had a bad feeling no one was taking the threat Damar posed seriously.


	4. Koganka Pudding

The clang of alarms ricocheted around Ziyal’s head and she narrowly avoided running full tilt into a gaggle of Odo’s deputies as she raced through the habitat ring. Everything was in turmoil, Ezri was nowhere to be found, discordant voices were shouting, systems were failing stationwide…Ziyal darted around a pylon bulkhead, calling for Ezri, for Nerys, but in the end it was her father who found her.

He was rambling, barely coherent, trying to get her to leave for Cardassia, talking of everything being lost, evacuating. 

No. _No._ She pulled out of his embrace, shaking her head wildly. This was her home, and she told him so. “I’m one of them,” she cried, desperate to get through to him.

“That’s not true.” He wasn’t listening, couldn’t listen. He was too far gone. All around them running feet and Jem’Hadar barking orders added to the cacophony.

“Father -- I helped Major Kira and the others escape from the holding cells.” Ziyal could see the moment her words hit him. It was like watching his very life force crumple.

He cast about for words, his mouth opening then closing. “Do you know what you're saying?”

“Yes, I do. I belong here.” She took a deep breath, backing away from him. “Goodbye, Father.”

The devastation in his eyes tore at her heart. “I love you.”

Suddenly someone was shouting, the words indistinct, and Ziyal turned towards the sound just in time to see Ezri out of nowhere hurling herself into Damar, knocking him into the wall just as he was…Ziyal blinked…Damar had a phaser rifle, but Ezri had jarred his aim and the phaser beam went wide, searing the wall above where she and her father were standing. 

Frozen in shock, they both stared at Damar. He uttered an epithet in Cardassian that the universal translator declined to decipher, then threw Ezri off, slamming her against a bulkhead. 

There was a scream, that she barely registered as her own, as she watched in horror as Ezri slid bonelessly into a heap on the ground. Damar planted his feet, taking aim with his phaser rifle again, as if in slow motion. 

"No!" It was her father’s voice, coming as if from far away. 

Damar hesitated as her father flung himself in front of her, but all Ziyal could think about was Ezri. The men were arguing now. Their words washed over her, but she caught snippets through the pounding in her ears.

“…she is holding you back from leading the new Cardassia, don't you see…”

“Damar…”

“She has to die, you must be free, your people need y—”

“ _Damar!_ You are talking about my _daughter!_ ”

His confidence wavering now, Damar stammered, “Cardassia needs you, Dukat…”

Ziyal didn’t wait to hear any more. She shoved past her father and skidded to her knees beside Ezri, calling her name over and over. She needed her, needed her to be alive, to be alright, to grin up at her and wink, but Ezri was unresponsive. Ziyal choked back a sob, and with a trembling hand she pressed Ezri's combadge, summoning help. She gathered the young woman into her arms as she gave their location, the comforting voices of Julian and Odo echoing inside her head as if this was all just a dream.

She saw out of the corner of her eye as her father grabbed Damar by the arm, pulling him away. They were leaving? Running? It didn’t matter. Her father called for her but she ignored him. Her place was by this woman’s side. 

Ezri stirred in Ziyal's arms and her heart leapt in hope.

"Ezri?"

There was no response and Ziyal began to wonder if she had imagined it. Should she check for a pulse? She couldn’t think straight, couldn’t focus on anything but how pale Ezri looked, and how hard her own heart was hammering in her chest.

An eternity later she felt hands on her shoulders, other hands prying Ezri from her arms. She choked back a cry and then suddenly Nerys was right there, taking her into her embrace, soothing her with soft shushing sounds. For just a moment Ziyal had a flash of her mother, holding her in a similar way, many years ago now. Tears came unbidden then, and she wept in Kira’s arms.

~~

Ziyal stood awkwardly at Ezri’s bedside, her eyes drinking in the sight of Ezri breathing, Ezri sitting up, Ezri looking so much more like herself. She would never forget how it felt to hold her limp body in her arms, her face terrifyingly pale.

“Hey…” Ezri’s soft voice jarred her thoughts before they could go back down a dark path.

“Hey,” she responded in a whisper, her voice cracking slightly. Her throat was raw.

“What are you thinking about?

“Just…” Ziyal swallowed painfully. “Just need to know you’re alright, that’s all.”

“Of course I am silly.” She nodded firmly, her shoulders squared, her tone no-nonsense. Then her mien shifted suddenly, she dropped her chin and a lock of dark hair fell into her eyes. Her shoulders dropped and her tone switched to something much more girlish.

She gasped, tugging on Ziyal’s hand, drawing her closer until Ziyal was perched on the bed beside her.

“Zi…”

Ezri released her to wrapped her hands around her own upper arms, her brow furrowing.

Concerned washed over Ziyal, and she glanced towards the door, wondering if she should get Julian. “Ezri…what…are you hurting?”

She took a shaky breath. “Lost. I got lost.

“What do you mean? Ezri?” She reached for her clumsily, only able to breathe again when Ezri clasped her hands. 

“I’m not Ezri, not _just_ her. It’s so…” She trailed off and squeezed her eyes shut, waving an arm to indicate the treatment room, empty save for the two of them. “…Crowded in here. And then I hit my head…I woke up and I didn’t know who I was—” Her words choked off.

Ziyal wrapped her in her arms as gently as she could, rocking her slightly. “It’s okay,” she soothed, her hand moving automatically to stroke Ezri’s hair back from her face, then cupping her neck, drawing her closer. She didn’t know what she was doing, all she knew was that Ezri needed her.

“Is it always going to be like this? I am always going to get…lost?” She hiccupped and ran out of breath.

“Shhh,” Ziyal breathed. “I’m here. I won’t let you get lost, I promise.”

Ezri’s eyes searched hers. The haunted emptiness there was jarring, but then Ziyal felt like she herself was not just one person either. 

She cupped Ezri’s face. “I’m Kira Ziyal, the fragile girl Nerys can nurture and protect. I’m Mrs. Ziyal Garak-to-be, flirting as if I am twice my age and even remotely sophisticated enough to entertain a man like Elim. I’m Tora Ziyal, the noble, brave labor camp survivor who makes her beloved late mother proud…and-and I’m the monster who Bajoran children stare at…grotesque—the stuff of their nightmares—and when they stare at me and whisper I fight and scrap and scream like I did in the frozen dust back in the Breen camp.”

She paused to take a breath. Ezri’s crystal blue eyes, swimming with tears, were locked on hers like Ziyal was her lifeline.

She continued, clutching Ezri’s hands in hers. “Except I don’t fight, instead I demurely drop my gaze. I am barely even Elim’s fake-girlfriend—I am none of these things. And now my father will disown me, which will matter not a whit to the people I betrayed him for as no one will ever really trust me here anyway. But I nonetheless call this my home. And that’s a lie too. Some parts of me will never leave the labor camp, or not hear the taunts of the students at the university.”

Their foreheads came together, Ziyal could feel the other woman trembling all over. “Except when I’m with you,” she finished quietly. “Then I’m just me.”

Their tears mingled as their lips found each other. “I’ll just be me too then,” Ezri mumbled against her mouth. “With you.”

“That’s all I need.”

“Me too.”

She could feel Ezri’s smile against hers before they deepened the kiss, not caring who was watching.

~~

Nerys hovered in the infirmary entrance way, a dish of some kind of dessert held close to her chest.

“How is she, Julian?”

he smiled at her reassuringly. “Ezri will be fine. Bruising, concussion, but nothing broken, and I was able to completely reduce the swelling from the impact, so the concussion is very mild. I’m keeping her under observation for now.”

“And Ziyal?”

“She’ll be alright, just a little shaken up.”

“Damar shot her.”

“He tried. He missed; Ezri got in the way.” He leaned against a biobed and watched through the doorway into one of the private treatment rooms where Ziyal cradled Ezri in her arms. Kira came to his side and followed his gaze. 

"What about you, Major? Any worse the wear from being held in the brig?"

Her smile quirked up one corner of her mouth but it didn’t reach her eyes. "Nothing a good night’s rest won’t fix. I still can’t believe Quark and Ziyal busting us out of there."

Julian’s smile widened. “They came through. I guess you never know what people are made of.”

“Ziyal didn’t surprise me. I knew she had it in her.” She handed him the dish. “I brought this for Ezri, it’s her favorite.”

Julian inspected the white fluffy confection. “What is it?”

“Bajoran Koganka pudding.” She said Ziyal introduced her to it, but this is my recipe. The replicator’s has too much Rekja.” She inclined her head in goodbye and turned to leave.

"Y'know," he said, his voice hesitant. What was he going to say? And why Kira of all people? He supposed they had all grown closer surviving under an occupation together.

"Go on?" Kira prompted him softly, stopping in her tracks and turning back to him.

"When I first got to know Ezri...I thought—" He broke off. "This is going to sound stupid." 

He looked at Kira but there was no judgement in her eyes. They were comrades in arms, in a way they had never been before the Dominion invaded, he realized. Now they were on the same side in a way that was entirely different from the years when the Federation were just the next all-powerful alien entity trying to absorb Bajor into its ranks, albeit less violently than the Cardassians. Now they were on the same side, risking their lives, sacrificing even more than that when he thought of what he and Miles did inside the mind of Section 31. Now he understood Kira's impatience with Starfleet moralizing.

"What were you going to say?" Kira's hand on his arm cut off his musings.

"Oh just...when Ezri came along, and it became quickly clear Worf and her had no time for each other, I thought...well, people were speculating that she and I might--" He vaguely waved his hand, dismissing his own words.

He didn’t need to go on, he could tell Kira caught his meaning.

He ran a hand through his hair, a little embarrassed. "But now when I look at them...do you ever see two people just so right for each other?"

Kira's lips curved into the first genuine smile he had seen from her in a long time. "I know what you mean." She cast a glance towards the door where Ezri and Ziyal had disappeared. 

"I actually thought," she looked down and quirked her lips in chagrin. "I thought Garak had a thing for her." She looked at him then almost apologetically. "But that was ridiculous, I see that now.” 

"I suspect she and Garak were just doing that to annoy Dukat," Julian confessed with a grin. 

"You may have something there." Her broad smile most definitely reached her eyes this time. 


End file.
